Page 25 of First Puck

“Hey,” I shouted, reaching out for him.

Coach shook the barrier. “Owens! Get out there or I’m pulling you!”

I shot a glare at Lance, but he was just staring at Alex like a creep with a smile that made me want to throw my fist into that asshole’s face.

Seriously, what the hell was that?

***

We’d won, and it was fucking awesome. That last shot I scored before that weird shit with Alex was what cinched it for us.

Scouts were there, everyone had seen it, and it was another point toward me finally getting drafted. It had to be. It needed to be, or I was going to lose my chance to join the Wranglers with Alex.

Then it was our turn to rub it in the Knight's faces. And, man, their expressions were totally worth it. Plus, it helped me forget whatever happened between Alex and Lance.

Even though, you know, it was bugging me like crazy.

I mean, we won and everything, and that was seriously cool, but Alex? I couldn’t find him anywhere.

I’d been waiting for him to come off the ice after our pissing contest with the Knights.

Our ritual was seriously important. A pre-game hug just after we’d kitted up, and a post-game hug when we were drenched in sweat and wiped out. We’d done it every single game, for as long as I could remember. We needed it, so where had he gone?

I’d been wandering around the locker room, feeling like I needed to go into detective mode. Like searching for scraps of information, unearthing clues, asking witnesses so I could seek him out.

It got to the point where my sweat was drying and I was going to get a chill, so I had to have a shower without him. The showers at our home rink always burned like crazy, and I loved them that way. I'd come out all hot and toasty, and normally find Alex waiting for me on the bench. He didn't like showering with the other guys.

But, when I padded out into the main room, he still wasn't there. So, I'd decided I'd wait him out, but it had been nearly fifteen minutes. He had to come for a shower at some point, right?

If I didn’t get my hug, we wouldn’t win the next match.

Tommy slammed his bag down on the bench that ran through the center of the locker room, glaring at me.

He was one of the shortest guys on the team, and he’d broken his nose when he was a kid, sending it skewing off to the right. That was the only thing people noticed about him. Well, that, and his scowl.

If Lance had been all over Alex earlier, then maybe he'd know where he was, but I hated the idea that someone knew better than I did. Lance had been trying to poach Alex for ages.

“Where’s Lance?” I asked Tommy, who was still in his towel, and my eyes hopped over the scar that slashed across his chest.

His upper lip curled as his hand plunged into his bag. “How the fuck should I know? I’m not his fucking babysitter.”

I shouldn’t have bothered. Tommy was always wound up as shit, even when we won a game. It made him an absolute speed demon, and he was always determined to win, but he started the most fights out of any other guys on the team.

I didn't want to sit around with Tommy snapping at me. As I grabbed my hockey sweater from the bench, I suddenly had a thought. One I seriously didn’t like.

Like, I thought I’d maybe seen Lance and Alex kissing two nights ago at the party, but I was already tipsy, and I couldn’t really tell if the long-haired guy was Alex or one of the other freshmen who were always all over Lance. But Alex didn’t swing that way, so it totally didn’t make sense.

I dragged on my sweater as I threw myself out the main door. I don’t know why I was freaking out—I was totally fine with Alex having other friends. It was just I wasthefriend. I was his main friend, the top friend, his first ever friend. I had the No. 1 spot.

So why the hell wasn't he here?

Without the steam of the showers filling the locker room, the temperature dropped by ten degrees as soon as I entered therink. But I was used to it. You didn’t spend half your life on the ice without adjusting to the cold.

It had been half an hour since the game ended and all the fans had filed out; no one was left except for the cleaners moving through the aisles and the Zamboni chugging away.

And Alex.

And Lance.

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